


Parental Control: Chapter 2

by littlesalemwinchester74



Series: Parental Control [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Parental Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:31:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6063988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesalemwinchester74/pseuds/littlesalemwinchester74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to Cassie for beta’ing, again thanks to Kayla for the Big Idea and for all her subsequent ideas.<br/>Warnings for this chapter: John Winchester being an ass and Dean being wonderfully sensitive and hopelessly hopeful that things will change while being realistically resigned to the fact that they never will. Also buildup. Sorry it’s slow. It’s getting there.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Parental Control: Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Cassie for beta’ing, again thanks to Kayla for the Big Idea and for all her subsequent ideas.  
> Warnings for this chapter: John Winchester being an ass and Dean being wonderfully sensitive and hopelessly hopeful that things will change while being realistically resigned to the fact that they never will. Also buildup. Sorry it’s slow. It’s getting there.

“All right, guys, keep it tight and let’s run it again! 5, 6, 7, 8!”

Dean looked up from his work to watch his sister and her crew dance. He didn’t even try to hide his grin or stamp down the swell of pride in his chest. His baby sister was beautiful, graceful, successful. The other dancers looked to her for instruction. They followed every move she made. They listened to her, they respected her. Dean had always wished he had the kind of power Jo did when she danced. Only twenty years old and already a beautiful leader.

The loose screws on the barre weren’t going to tighten themselves, though. Still smiling a little, Dean turned his attention back to the task at hand. He loved working at In Step when the opportunity presented itself, especially when the opportunity happened to present itself on days when Jo was there, too. He saw plenty of his sister but seeing her dance was one of Dean’s favorite things in the world, so he never turned down a maintenance job at the studio, no matter how busy he was.

He finished tightening up the screws and used the barre to pull himself upright. He leaned against the wall, watching Jo’s crew dance. Too soon, the song ended and Jo called for the crew to take ten. Grinning ear to ear, she hopped over to Dean with her water bottle in her hand.

“Hey! What’d you think?”

“That routine is really coming along,” Dean answered honestly. “Some of your dancers still need a little work on the tango, though.”

“Yeah. We’re gonna tighten that up. Hey, are you ringing?”

Dean listened carefully and realized that yes, his phone was ringing. He dug it out of his pocket and held it to his ear, shooting Jo an apologetic look.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dean.”

And…this was why Dean always checked the caller ID before picking up any calls. His stomach dropped into his shoes and his heart rate accelerated.

“Dad.” Dean didn’t miss the way Jo’s eyes widened.

John chuckled. “Well, you’d think I was calling you from Hell itself, boy. What'sa matter with you?”

“You just don’t call very often.”

“Yeah, about that. I was thinking about things, and we’ve sort of drifted apart. I thought maybe we could work on fixing that. Starting with lunch today?”

Dean gripped the barre to keep his balance. His dad called out of the blue and wanted to hang out…was he dying? John never wanted to spend time with his eldest son, hadn’t since Dean was a kid. And yet…somewhere deep inside, Dean was still a little boy waiting for his dad’s approval, as much as he hated to admit it.

“Sure, Dad. That sounds…great.”

“Great.” The tone of John’s voice was unnerving to Dean—Dad never sounded jovial. “I’ll meet you at Penny’s at one.”

“See you then.” Dean hung up and stared at the phone in his hand, disbelief written all over his face.

“What did he want?” Jo asked, not bothering to hide the distaste in her voice.

“To ask me to lunch,” Dean answered. “He wants me to meet him at Penny’s.”

“Dad asked you to lunch? Dad? Our Dad? John Winchester. Are you sure?”

“I know, Jo. What the hell, right?”

“And you’re gonna go?”

“I mean, yeah. I can’t really say no, can I?”

“Sure you can. You’re 26 and he’s not exactly father of the year material.”

Dean looked at her then, and by the way her expression changed he could only guess what she was reading in his eyes. His mouth tried to form words for a moment, but no sound came out. He just didn’t know what to say.

“Oh, Dean,” Jo said quietly, sympathy thick in her voice. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her big brother, resting her face against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Dean hugged Jo for a little while until he got himself back together. He heard footsteps and knew Jo’s crew was coming back from their break. He forced his trademark smirk onto his face and winked.

“Well, I’d better let you get back to it. Tighten up that tango, huh? I’ll be back to see it soon.” He kissed her forehead and turned to go. “Tell Mandie the barre’s done, will ya? Bye, Jo.”

Without waiting for a response, Dean left the studio and crossed the parking lot to his car. The ‘67 Chevy Impala was his pride and joy, the only thing his father had ever trusted him with. It had been a gift for his sixteenth birthday and sometimes Dean wondered if John had given it to him out of necessity rather than out of the desire to give his son something special. Whatever the reason, the car was Dean’s now, and he’d vowed to never let it go. He took perfect care of his baby and kept her in pristine condition. On the very rare occasions he did see his father, John always commented on how well Dean kept the Impala, which filled Dean with foolish pride for a few glorious seconds until John inevitably followed that remark up with one about Dean’s numerous perceived shortcomings.

A quick glance at his phone told Dean that he had half an hour before he was due at Penny’s, so he decided to head on over. It wouldn’t do to be late: John would certainly have some snarky comment that would spoil Dean’s entire week, and he didn’t want to go through more berating than he had to. No, it was better to be early.

And early he was. Dean pulled smoothly into a parking space at 12:42 and killed the engine. He sat still for six minutes, counting breaths and trying to get his heartbeat under control. It was ridiculous for anyone to get so nervous about casual lunch at a cafe with their father on a Tuesday, and yet there Dean was. He was always nervous when he had to see John, and he found himself wishing he’d turned his Dad down. Of course that wasn’t really an option, so Dean steeled himself, climbed out of the car, and marched purposefully inside. He found a table and sat down to wait for his father.

“It’s just lunch, you big baby. It’s just Dad,” he told himself.

He only wished he could convince himself.


End file.
